Simplicity
by Aoitori
Summary: Missing scene from 4x12. Anybody else think it wasn't too kind of Merlin to have simple!arthur doing the chores? This is a slightly  read:very  H/C-tastic tag to that scene. Bromance and hilarity abound. Please read, review, and enjoy!


_Disclaimer_: I do not own Merlin, Arthur, Camelot- any of it. And that is such a good thing, if you really think about it!

_Note_: Heh. Sometimes I think I keep writing these one-shots so that a few more people will read and review my other stuff too. This certainly is a fast-paced fandom, I'll give it that! I know, I know- if I wrote multi-chap fics then I'm sure I'd pick up more of a following. I'm just not a multi-chap kinda gal. Problems with commitment, and all that. XD

Well this missing scene from 4x12 came into existence when I saw Merlin sending simple!arthur to do his chores and thought, "Aww, that's not very nice! He's bound to hurt himself! Come on, now, Merlin!" Aaaaand I just kinda went from there. If you're a fan of the enchanted!arthur section of this episode this will probably just be icing on the (very tasty) cake. If not...well...um...I'm sorry? In any case, please read and review and enjoy! Yoroshikuonegaitashimasu!

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><p><span>Simplicity<span>

It was what seemed to Merlin like _hours_ later when Arthur (if this strange, enchanted version of him could even be called that) finally found his way back to the campfire. His features were mud-encrusted and his gait something of a stagger as he rambled up, clutching his sore ribs tightly with one hand.

"Aw, no..." Merlin said with half a moan as he saw his befuddled friend clearly in pain. "I should've thought..." He quickly got to his feet and took Arthur by the shoulders, helping him to sit by the fire. "What happened to you?"

Arthur took a moment to think about that. "I tried to rub down the horses like you said," he finally recounted, slowly and with apparent difficulty.

Merlin kicked himself mentally. Even Arthur in his right mind might not know how properly to rub down horses, seeing as he'd probably never had to do it for himself.

"But one got angry and kicked at me..." the once-king looked confused, like he couldn't imagine why an animal would do such a thing.

Merlin's eyes got wide, "You didn't catch a hoof to the ribs!" he asked in horror. That kind of damage to already fractured ribs could easily spell the king's death.

His hand immediately reached around Arthur to check the damage, but his friend stopped him with a deeply self satisfied shake of his head.

"I got out of the way," Arthur announced, as if he'd just conquered a castle.

Merlin breathed a shaky sigh of relief and clapped Arthur on the back, "Well done!" he said. He could only imagine what kind of 'rubbing down' Arthur had attempted that would make a calm cart-horse throw a kick.

"But," Arthur added, some shame creeping into his too-sincere voice, "I did fall down."

"Did you now?" Merlin said with a sympathetic smile and a measure of sarcasm that was completely lost upon its mud-flecked victim.

He handed Arthur a cloth but the addled man looked at it blankly.

Merlin mimed wiping his face and Arthur gave a look of sudden and delighted understanding before awkwardly putting it to use.

"And I think I fell on my side." Arthur added with obvious embarrassment.

Merlin grimaced, noticing that his friend's right hand hadn't left his side. His clumsy attempts to clean his face were made clumsier by the fact that they were being attempted left-handed.

Merlin shook his head in resignation, took the cloth, and finished the job himself as Arthur stared placidly.

"Thank you." he said dully, and Merlin winced.

He wanted to reject the thanks, it was his fault his friend had gotten muddied in the first place, but he knew that would only serve to confuse the poor man.

"Alright, now lets see the damages." Merlin prompted.

Arthur nodded but did not otherwise move.

"Your ribs, Arthur, come on now lift up your shirt."

Arthur reluctantly released his grip on his inured side and, wincing in a way that was horridly pathetic, lifted up his shirt to reveal what was probably the largest, most violently violet bruise that Merlin had ever seen.

His horror must have been writ clearly on his face because Arthur, looking at Merlin and not his ribs, asked with furrowed brows, "Am I going to die?"

"No! Of course not!" Merlin reassured him warmly, patting the absent king's back sympathetically while at the same time thinking '_possibly!_' All that bleeding under the skin could be an indication of serious damage.

"Gaius's binding must have come undone..." Merlin muttered, trying to think of what else he could use in lieu of bandages.

"You mean this?" Arthur asked, pulling a long strip of cloth from his trouser pocket. "I had it on when you made me change." He explained brightly.

Merlin gritted his teeth, trying not to show frustration, "That'll do nicely." He said, plucking the bandage from his master's slow-moving hand as kindly as he could manage.

"Now, I've got to feel where your ribs are before I re-tie this. I'm afraid its going to hurt quite a lot."

"'S alright," Arthur said with resignation. "It's hurt a lot all day."

"It has?" Merlin asked, looking up in distress from where he'd been about to begin work on the ribs.

Arthur nodded soulfully. There was deep pain hidden in those dull blue eyes.

Merlin grimaced again. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Arthur cocked his head. "You said to be quiet," he explained simply. "You say that a lot."

"Not as much as you," Merlin muttered grimly, _though __you'd __never __put __it __quite __so __nicely._

Arthur frowned at him in earnest confusion.

Merlin shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Arthur patted him on the shoulder awkwardly. "Its alright." And just like that he was forgiven.

Merlin gulped down a wave of shame. "I'm afraid we've got to keep quiet now too, Arthur," he elaborated, then nodded to where Tristan and Isolde had made their campfire, "don't want to attract unwanted attention."

Arthur nodded solemnly.

"Just try not to cry out, alright?" The nod carried on unchanged...until Merlin's searching fingers probed damaged muscle and fractured ribs.

Arthur let out a hiss through gritted teeth and it soon faded into something heartbreakingly similar to a whimper.

Merlin, having ascertained what he needed to know about the injury put an arm around his friend's shoulders as Arthur breathed raggedly, letting the pain subside to more tolerable levels. "It's alright. I've got you."

It was at that moment that Tristan decided to grace their little circle of firelight with his unexpected presence.

"Thats a nasty looking bruise you have there, simpleton,' the smuggler said with icy blue eyes narrowing in suspicion. "You must have been in quite a battle."

Before Merlin could come up with some brilliant excuse, Arthur shook his head firmly. "I fell down," he explained. "I'm very clumsy."

He looked over at Merlin as if trying to remember something. "But the horse didn't kick me, so I'm not going to die," he finished with a smile.

Tristan shot Merlin a skeptical look but the warlock just smiled and shrugged.

"You sure your 'friend' isn't responsible for that, boy?" he addressed Arthur again, "You sure _Merlin _hasn't been mistreating you?"

"Merlin?" Arthur frowned in confusion. "Merlin looks after me." His frown deepened into one of anger for the first time since he'd been put into this state.

"Merlin would never do anything to hurt me!" He got haltingly to his feet and stalked forward toward Tristan.

It took Merlin a moment to follow, shocked as he was at Arthur's reaction.

"Merlin is my FRIEND." Arthur nearly shouted, inches from Tristan's unperturbed face.

Merlin slid gracelessly between Arthur and the subject of his newfound wrath, taking his friend by the shoulders once again and forcibly separating him from the smuggler, saying, "And _you_ my friend, are a bit excessively loyal." He turned to shoot Tristan an apologetic lookbefore guiding arthur to once again be seated by the fire. He kept a protective arm around Arthur's shoulders both to comfort him and restrain him.

"Sorry about that." Merlin explained quickly, "He gets a little defensive sometimes." He patted Arthur on the arm. "But I swear he's not been mistreated." _Except __being __sent __to __do __chores __he __can't __handle, _Merlin thought bitterly.

Arthur nodded emphatically at Tristan, who simply raised an eyebrow.

"Now, if you don't mind, I still need to wrap up these ribs..." Merlin said, pointing to his master's injured side.

"Oh?" Tristan's eyebrow arced even further.

Merlin nodded as he untangled the old wrapping. "I apprenticed with a physician," he explained shortly.

Tristan's customary look of skepticism didn't fade but he watched a moment, muttered, "Indeed...that must be useful..." and then moved off.

Merlin watched him go. Arthur saw Merlin watching and tried to imitate.

Finally Merlin shook his head and turned back to Arthur. "Right. Let's take care of this so we can get some sleep."

"Sleep would be nice," the king said, immediately breaking into a huge yawn.

"Quite. But not just yet. Hold this..." Merlin put the end of the too-short shirt in Arthur's hand and moved the hand up, "...right there." He put the tail end of the bandage in his other hand, "And this..." He moved it to Arthur's side, "...right here." And then began wrapping it loosely around the king's torso.

Arthur stifled a small laugh and merlin looked up at him slowly, brows furrowed incredulously.

"Tickles." Arthur admitted.

Merlin looked away, taking a moment to blink away his utter disbelief before shaking his head and repeating, "_tickles!_" under his breath. _Arthur, __if __you __remember __any __of __this __I __am __truly __and __literally __a __dead __man..._

"Alright, are you ready?" He asked his master.

Arthur blinked, "What for?"

"I'm going to tighten it now..."

Arthur just stared.

"Its going to hurt a lot again." Merlin explained regretfully.

Fear clouded sky-blue eyes as Arthur cringed in anticipation, but he looked at Merlin earnestly and said, "Okay."

Merlin almost couldn't do it. The travesty of bringing pain to that open, child-like face was almost too much. It occurred to Merlin that, royal prattishness aside, Arthur must have been quite brave as a small child. The thought didn't help things one bit. Still, this was the only way to ensure the king would be able to heal properly- it had to be done.

"Okay." Merlin repeated. And pulled.

As he appeared to be pulling the bandage taut with one hand, the warlock was actually using magic to tighten it evenly around the ribcage and simultaneously reposition several ribs so they could grow back together seamlessly. The fact that it was a remarkably handy bit of magic did not make it any less painful for Arthur.

The simpleton king groaned through his teeth, apparently remembering Merlin's earlier admonitions about crying out, and pitched forward in agony, coming to rest against Merlin's shoulder.

Merlin caught and steadied him as he gasped against the pain. He didn't dare look to see if there were tears in Arthur's eyes. "Easy there. You're alright." He said as gently as he could manage, "You'll feel better now." he tried. "See, you're feeling better already."

There was no audible response from Arthur, except that his breathing eased. Long moments passed in silence. Merlin could feel the tension draining from the man and his head lolled slightly to the side, finally coming to rest lightly against Merlin's.

The warlock's brow furrowed in suspicion. He shifted his master slightly and craned his neck around to see, indeed...

Arthur Pendragon, Once and Future King of Camelot and Albion, had fallen fast asleep against his shoulder.

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><p>Merlin settled down against a tree trunk and wrapped a gray wool blanket tightly around himself. From here he had a decent view of his master, resting comfortably next to the fire where merlin had deposited him, covered by all the rest of the blankets Tristan and Isolde would spare for them (which weren't many). He could also see much of the forest trail to the south, from whence anyone hunting them would likely appear.<p>

Merlin still felt a bit bad about relaxing by the fire while Arthur had struggled with chores. He was glad he'd never had and never would have a servant of his own. It really didn't suit him.

In fact he was beginning to second guess his decisions for this whole venture. When was this spell going to wear off? He'd only studied it several years ago for the possibility of using it on himself, should he get captured and interrogated by an enemy. He hadn't looked at it since, and barely remembered how to cast it at all, let alone how long it lasted or how to break it. And did he even want it broken just yet? Whether or not Arthur remembered his time as a simpleton (heaven forbid) he was bound to be furious at the situation Merlin had gotten them into. And his guise as a simpleton was still rather critical at this juncture...

He sighed. It wasn't like he was going to have much choice in the matter anyway.

A yawn crept up on him and he blinked forcefully and shook his head, trying to keep awake. Though he hoped they had lost them, Morgana's Southrons could easily be upon them at any moment. _I __will __NOT __fall __asleep!_ he told himself firmly.

The problem, he would reflect later, with growing up sleeping on cold, hard floors was that when one got tired enough, one could easily sleep on cold, hard anything. Including (but not limited to) cold, hard tree roots.

Something thunked into Merlin's leg. His unconscious self tried not to think about it. The thing thunked again, harder, and didn't stop. He opened sleepy eyes to look up at a very familiar (if ridiculously clad) figure.

"You'd better have a damn good explanation for this, Merlin!"


End file.
